


VII. Pyjama Party (Poison, Pills, Panic)

by BubblyWashingMachine



Series: Every Little Hurt Counts [febuwhump 2021] [7]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Banter, Childhood Friends, Complicated Relationships, FebuWhump2021, Febuwhump, Friendship, Gen, Hurt Vanya Hargreeves, LMAO, No Romance, Number Five | The Boy Didn't Leave The Umbrella Academy, Number Five | The Boy Needs A Hug, Panic Attacks, Pre-Canon, Sibling Bonding, Vanya Hargreeves Needs A Hug, febuwhumpday7, five and vanya are best friends, it has barely anything to do with that though, prompt is poisoning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:33:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29262033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BubblyWashingMachine/pseuds/BubblyWashingMachine
Summary: Vanya creeps down like a ghost, having every squeaky step memorized since she was ten years old, pressing her back against the wall. At the bottom, she peers around the corner to check if Mom is charging – she’s not. Just as Vanya suspected, Mom is downstairs being a good host with Dad and the others, and Pogo is in his room like Vanya’s supposed to be, which means the whole second floor is free for Number Seven to roam.Carefully, she makes her way to the edge of the railing, and ducks down low, her small face peering out from between the banisters, pointy and white. She brushes her bangs out of her eyes and presses herself forward as much as possible to see, squishing her cheeks against the wood.Downstairs, the party is in full swing....It's the Hargreeves seasonal gala, and little Vanya, not invited, sneaks downstairs to catch a glimpse of the glamour. However, the night doesn't go exactly as planned.
Relationships: Number Five | The Boy & Vanya Hargreeves
Series: Every Little Hurt Counts [febuwhump 2021] [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2137428
Comments: 8
Kudos: 76





	VII. Pyjama Party (Poison, Pills, Panic)

**Author's Note:**

> To everyone who compliments my sibling banter: thank u i am an only child so i always worry it sounds fake but i'm glad you like it!!!
> 
> Anyway day seven. This has exactly 2% to do with poison and the rest is literally just more five and vanya banter. hashtag sorry not sorry. today was also the first day that I had not even slightly started beforehand, and from here out I guess I'll be scrambling to write them on the day, lol. if this seems uh, rushed, i'm so sorry :(
> 
> Warning that this features a very vivid and intense scene of a panic attack! Like, not implied, it's happening live - i know people probably experience them differently?? I just described what it feels like for me. hope it's ok.
> 
> other notes include: hargreeves mansion is confusing and i do not care about the layout. But you know how there's like a whole floor of just walkways with big empty places where you can look down onto the floor below? Like a mall, kinda? Ye. Imagine that. vanya also has no shoes for this whole story RIP

Vanya is supposed to be in her room.

She isn’t allowed to go downstairs on the nights that Dad is hosting a gala – it happens five times a year, one for each season plus the New Years Eve ball, which she _also_ isn’t invited to attend.

If anyone – Dad, Mom, even Pogo - knew she wasn’t fast asleep in her room, she would be grounded faster that one could say _lacerated_ – that’s why no one knows, not even her siblings currently having the time of their lives drinking punch and dancing, probably, and why she’s _not_ going to get caught.

Vanya is fourteen; she’s sick of being hidden away like a sickly princess in a tower. She wants to see the party.

It’s just going to be a quick look. One peek and then she’ll go back, she tells herself.

So, she sneaks out of her room. Still in her pyjamas, mind you – _she_ doesn’t have any formal wear. Barefoot on the carpet, she slinks down the hallway until she reaches the stairs that lead to the overhang.

She creeps down like a ghost, having every squeaky step memorized since she was ten years old, pressing her back against the wall. At the bottom, she peers around the corner to check if Mom is charging – she’s not. Just as Vanya suspected, Mom is downstairs being a good host with Dad and the others, and Pogo is in his room like Vanya’s supposed to be, which means the whole second floor is free for Number Seven to roam.

Carefully, she makes her way to the edge of the railing, and ducks down low, her small face peering out from between the banisters, pointy and white. She brushes her bangs out of her eyes and presses herself forward as much as possible to see, squishing her cheeks against the wood.

Downstairs, the party is in full swing.

There is a live band playing tasteful jazz music in the corner, which catches her attention first. Glancing around, she can see that no one is really dancing like she thought they would be – Diego is loitering at the edge of the mingling crowd with Ben, hanging behind Mom and trying to look coolly disinterested. At the buffet table, Klaus is piling a plate high with canapes.

In the centre of the floor, she can spot a glittering Allison captivating a group of adults with conversation, Luther hanging off her elbow and looking at her adoringly.

Vanya rolls her eyes, fighting down the churning jealousy inside her, and looks for Five. She imagines that he’d be somewhere off to the side, either amusing himself with slipping bits of food in random guests’ pockets for them to discover later, or trying to impress Dad – though he would ever admit that that’s what he’s doing – by charming a few businessmen into backing one of Reginald’s new projects. Five can be charming when he wants to be. Vanya thinks it’s the dimples. Adults just adore them.

But she can’t find him anywhere, and starts to worry that he’s snuck out or worse, gone looking for her.

“Boo,” says a voice from behind her, and Vanya startles so badly that she whacks her head on the railing. She whirls around, and sees him standing there in the dark casually, hands in his pockets.

“Five!” She hisses, pressing a hand to the lump on her skull while he snickers. She grabs his arm and drags him out of sight. “You scared me.”

“Oops,” he says, not sounding sorry. He rests his chin on his palm. “You should be in your room, you know. You’re gonna get in trouble.”

“ _You’re_ gonna get me caught,” she says.

“Technically, you’ve already been caught, by me.”

“ _Technically_ ,” she mimics mockingly, “you’re a dickhead.”

“That is correct,” Five says coolly. He leans around her to look down at the party below, and whistles. Ever since he learned how to whistle last month, he won’t stop showing off about it, and it’s _so_ annoying. “Nice view from up here.”

“I bet it’s nicer down there,” she mutters. Vanya wishes she could whistle.

“You’re not missing out on anything,” he tells her, and he seems sincere, but she doesn’t agree. “Just a bunch of rich assholes eating themselves sick and licking Dad’s shoes.”

She tries not to giggle at that mental image. “Sounds like Luther’s crowd. Won’t they miss you?”

“Dad doesn’t care what I do anymore as long as I show up in time for his toast,” Five says flippantly. Vanya hopes that’s true. “Not like he can stop me. And, it’s more fun up here,” Five continues. “As long as you have me around.”

And he produces two canapes from his pocket with a flourish, looking self-satisfied.

She pulls a face. “I don’t want that.”

“What?” He frowns. “I got them for you. _I_ don’t want them.”

“They’ve been in your _pocket_.”

“They’re still edible!”

“What even is that? A sausage on pastry?”

“I was just being the best brother ever,” he gripes. “You’re so _fussy_.”

“Oh, I’m _sorry_ I don’t want to eat your old, lint-covered pocket food—"

“My pockets are perfectly—”

“—your soggy _table scraps_ —”

“Not my fault you’re the pickiest girl in—”

“—being hygienic isn’t—"

“—I thought you would want—"

“—not _that_ desperate—”

“—should be _grateful_ —”

“Well _thank you_ for thinking of me,” she huffs.

“You’re _welcome_ ,” he says, grinning, and throws the canapes over the railing.

From down below there is the sound of someone yelling, “ _Hey, what the-_!” And Five laughs while Vanya covers her face, mortified.

“ _Now_ I’m going to be in trouble,” she groans.

“Only if you’re stupid enough to—”

“Remain at the scene of the crime,” Vanya finishes, filling up with dread.

“Precisely,” he says, smiling wickedly, and grabs her by the arm and forces them both through a portal.

 _Ow ow ow, OWWWWWWW,_ Vanya thinks, as all the atoms in her body feel like they’re being crushed to the size of a pea and then brutally stretched out again.

Vanya is spat out the other side into a dark room and immediately sprawls out, her face squashed against the hardwood floor, her head spinning and stomach lurching. “Five, I – ugh – I’m gonna be sick.”

“No, you’re not,” he says, sounding far more confident than he should, but even he has to catch his breath. Teleporting two people takes a lot out of him. She doesn’t know how he handles doing that all the time. “Come on Vanya, deep breaths.”

“I hate you,” she mumbles into the floor.

“No, you don’t.” No, she doesn’t.

“You’re the worst.”

“That may be true.” He gets impatient and hauls Vanya to her feet while she sways and moans dramatically. “Ven, seriously. Stop whining.”

“I feel like I’m dying,” she complains, but tries to focus. “Where are we, anyway?”

“Venice.”

“Ha. Ha. Ha.”

He rolls his eyes at her. “First floor, one of the ten million empty bedrooms.”

“ _First_ floor?” She covers her eyes with her hands. “I’m not allowed down here, Five! You want me to be grounded in my room for the rest of my life?”

“It’s not like you ever _leave_.”

She hates that he’s right. “Cruel. Cruel and horrible friend.”

“I’m your _only_ friend. Besides, this way you can see the gala from the ground. Maybe then you’ll realise how lame it is.”

“Five, I can’t go out there,” she says quietly, feeling embarrassed. “I’m in my pyjamas. And Dad will catch me.”

Five presses his lips together, face tightening. Vanya gets the feeling that she’s testing his patience, and feels guilty. He doesn’t need to be doing this, hanging out with lame, boring Vanya instead of enjoying the party. She’s wasting his time. “Vanya. I thought you _wanted_ to see the party.”

Suddenly, as Vanya opens her mouth to answer, the sound of footsteps startles her. “Someone’s coming!” She hisses.

Five’s eyes widen. “What? I can’t hear—”

Vanya tunes him out. She knows he won’t be able to make another two-person spacial jump for a while, at least until he eats something. _Should have kept the canapes._ She also knows he won’t leave her behind. The footsteps – two people – get closer, and pause outside the door.

So, Vanya, acting rather quickly under the circumstances in her opinion, tackles Five to the ground, covering his mouth as he shrieks. She shoves him under the bed and scrambles after him.

He tries to say something, and she frantically smothers him. _We’re going to die,_ she thinks miserably. In the darkness, she can just barely make out his face. He is glaring furiously. She knows he is saying, _I will literally bite your hand off._

So wisely, she removes her hands, begging the universe for the people outside to not come in.

“Vany—” Five hisses, looking livid.

The door opens. A splash of golden light spills across the carpet and two pairs of feet in fancy leather shoes enter. They close the door behind them. Five shuts his mouth.

He narrows his eyes at her. She bares her teeth.

A man starts speaking, in a soft voice. _“Is the plan in motion?”_

 _“Yes. Everything is going smoothly. Hargreeves doesn’t suspect a thing.”_ This voice belongs to a different man, one with a slight Australian accent. Five’s brow furrows at the strange words.

_“Francis is in place in the kitchen?”_

_“He is. Just waiting for our signal, and then he will put phase three into action.”_

_“Good. I was concerned he may be having… second thoughts. He always has been too soft – couldn’t_ _see the big picture.”_

_“I spoke with him. He’ll be ready. He hates Hargreeves just as much as we do.”_

_“Well done. Soon, Hargreeves’ precious Umbrella Academy will be no more, and our competition will_ _be eradicated, with him none the wiser. And we can put this behind us.”_ Vanya’s eyes widen, and Five stares back at her, shocked. Vanya feels like her body temperature has dropped several degrees.

As the men keep talking, she tries to stay completely still, even holding her breath and biting down hard on her lower lip. _“I must say I’m looking forward to it, sir. With the Umbrella Academy out of the way, our business will know prosperity like it never has before.”_

 _“Indeed. Tell Francis phase three is a go. He needs to be ready with the poison on my signal.”_ Five’s jaw strains as he grits his teeth, eyes wide and scared, unable to make a sound.

_“Yes sir.”_

The men leave and pull the door shut behind them, their footsteps echoing down the hall as they return to the party.

“Oh my God,” Vanya whispers, horrified. “They want to kill everyone?”

Five scrabbles out from under the bed and drags her out after him. “Not everyone. Just the Umbrella Academy.” He says, fear showing in his face despite the false calm in his voice. “ _Shit._ They must be Dad’s rivals. I have to stop them.”

“We should warn the others,” Vanya suggests, her heart racing. This night suddenly got a whole lot more stressful. “We should warn all the guests. They’re going to - to poison something.”

“There’s no time,” Five snaps, pacing around and tugging at his hair compulsively. “Stay here. I need to find that Francis guy and kill him.”

“Five, you can’t just _kill_ him!” Vanya says, aghast. She holds her hands out, trying to be a calming presence. “Just, calm down for a second and think—”

Five shakes his head. “No, I can—”

“—let’s get Allison to rumour—”

“We don’t have _time_ to explain!” Five cries. “Those men could be—”

“I know, but just let me _help,_ I can—"

There is the crash of a heavy glass object shattering from outside. Maybe that’s the signal. Five, clearly having the same thought, doesn’t wait for her to finish.

“Stay here,” he says. “Don’t – don’t leave this room. I’ll be back.”

He sends Vanya an apologetic glance, ignoring her frantically telling him to wait, and blinks out of sight.

“Shit,” she says, her eyes wet, and fights the urge to sink to the floor. She knows this feeling.

Then, because she’s alone, she sinks to the floor anyway, hands shaking, gulping in shallow breaths. She needs to go get her pills, but they’re back in her room.

She draws her knees to her chest, hands tucked between them, and she squeezes her eyes shut against the waves of panic that roll over and through her.

Poison, pills, panic.

She struggles to breathe. Five told her to stay. That means she has to stay.

Poison.

Pills.

Panic.

She counts to seven, and waits for the feeling to pass like it always does. Usually, she has her medicine to take. Usually, she has Pogo or even Five.

But right now the ceiling is sinking lower, the sounds of laughing and dancing and jazz outside becoming almost unbearably loud until it resonates deep inside her chest and makes her feel like the sound is splitting her open – she puts her hands over her ears.

Vanya sits and panics and nothing happens.

 _I can’t leave because Five told me to stay,_ she thinks, the longer nothing happens.

_I can’t leave because Dad might see._

_I can’t leave because there are bad men outside who want to kill me—_

_I can’t leave because there are bad men outside who want to kill my siblings. They don’t care about me._

_I can’t leave. Five left me here alone. No one will find me. No one will come looking._

_And I can’t leave._

Vanya presses her face into her arms and panics, tears streaming down her cheeks, lips pulled back in a strange, silent scream without breath, teeth mashed against the fabric of her pyjamas, heart crashing against her ribs. Sobs rack her body.

If she moves, she’ll die.

If she makes a single sound, she’ll die.

…

Five doesn’t kill the Francis guy. Here’s how it goes:

“Are you Francis?” He asks politely, to every man in the kitchen.

“Uh, no?” Answer most of them, confused as to why there is a very angry-looking child teleporting around their workspace when they’re currently trying to find and fill a replacement punch-bowl for the one that was just smashed outside.

“What?” Says one, becoming flustered. He fumbles with the small glass vial he’s holding, and glances nervously at the punch. _Bingo_. “Ah – no, I mean, why—”

“Thanks,” Five says, relieved, and hits the man over the head with a frying pan.

 _Ouch,_ he thinks, grimacing at the man’s unconscious form and ignoring the screaming chefs around him. _I hope I never find out what that feels like._

He swipes up the glass vial, grinning, proud of himself. Then, he goes and finds Dad.

Reginald is impressed, he thinks. Not that he cares or anything.

The Francis guy is taken into custody for questioning, and the vial is taken for testing. Five gets to tell the others, who are suitably captivated, about how he overheard the men talking, how he leapt into action and found the culprit in the kitchen. He’s careful to leave Vanya out of his story, instead saying he got bored and left to explore by himself, so that she can’t be incriminated.

Sir makes them all wait while he does his toast, which takes far too long in Five’s opinion.

Then the guests _finally_ leave, but all the Academy members are required to smile and wave on threat of grounding. Five thinks of Vanya, and feels a tinge of guilt for leaving her so suddenly. She’d understand, though, he decides. Since he did save everyone from being poisoned.

She should be safely back in her room by now, and asleep, he reckons, glancing at the clock.

But when they’re finally dismissed, and he changes into his pyjamas, brushes his teeth, and blinks to her bedroom, she’s not there.

Five freezes, and forces himself to check again. She’s still not there when he opens his eyes. _Fuck._

He curses, glares at the wall, forces himself to calm down.

He knows where she is.

…

“Vanya, come on, get up,” comes a voice. Vanya feels herself being pulled up, and she raises her head, blinking slowly.

“Five?”

He looks really mad. “Vanya, why the _hell_ are you still in here? It’s been hours!”

“But you told me to stay,” she says, squinting, brain foggy. He did, right? He did. She tugs her arm free from his grip and scrubs her face with a hand, and feels it come away salty and scratchy. She frowns. Oh, yeah – she panicked.

“I didn’t mean forever,” he tells her weakly, looking at her with an expression her sleepy brain can’t identify. He’s sorry, maybe. Maybe angry.

“Sorry,” she says, and it’s the wrong thing to say. His mouth twists down, and he grabs her elbows.

“Vanya, it’s been hours,” he repeats.

She opens and closes her mouth. “Well you said you’d come back.” _I thought you died,_ she thinks stupidly, and is glad that she kept that to herself. She guesses that he killed the guy, then.

Five falters, swallows. “Yeah.”

“Can you take me back to my room now?” She asks, muttering. Her mind is waking up – her back hurts from where she was curled up on the hardwood floor, and she feels a flash of irritation. He said he’d come back. He left her there, and she couldn’t leave.

“Vanya, I’m sorry,” Five says, and she shrugs, looking down. He doesn’t like it when she gets mad at him, so she doesn’t say anything.

After a pause, he blinks her back to her room, and she sits down quickly on the bed. Oh, that horrible feeling. Will it ever get better?

“Here,” Five says, handing her something. A pill. She looks down at it and grimaces. _Poison._ But she swallows it dry anyway.

Five stares at her expectantly. “Why are you looking at me like that,” she says, not even bothering to make it a question, and he frowns.

“Aren’t you going to ask what happened?”

“I’m tired.”

“I didn’t kill him, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Five sits down next to her, ignoring the telekinetic signals she is trying to send out to him that say _leave me alone._ She huffs. He’s never had a good sense of privacy. “I just knocked him out with a frying pan.”

“Right.” She snorts, despite herself. “Frying pan to the head. Totally harmless.”

Five smiles, looking relieved. “I really am sorry I left you there. But I saved everyone.”

“Yeah, you did,” she admits, letting herself be slightly comforted. “I bet Dad was pleased.”

“Like I care,” Five lies blatantly. “Anyway, are you okay?”

“Fine,” Vanya lies right back. “I fell asleep.”

They’re best friends. They lie to each other all the time. Five and Vanya look at each other for a second, neither calling the other out, and things are okay. “You didn’t get to see the party,” Five says finally, smirking. He looks her up and down. “Shame you spent so long getting ready.”

“Oh, apparently it was lame anyway,” Vanya grins. “I bet I didn’t miss out on anything.”

**Author's Note:**

> I love five and vanya so much!!! anyway leave a comment if you enjoyed! I'll see you tomorrow :)


End file.
